Stygian
by awesomesen
Summary: It's always darkest before it goes pitch black... [Baralai x Nooj, complete.]
1. Twilight

(this story is rated R for violence, non explicit sexual content, and mature themes. you have been warned. this is a three-part story—**Twilight** takes place before the game, **Midnight **during the game, and **Dawnbreak** shortly after. please enjoy this story)

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so think of the sea, my baby..._

_think of the sea as you murder me. _

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_i: when the sun set_

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Baralai liked to keep informed, so before he joined the Crimson Squad, he spent some time researching the organization and potential candidates. Nooj's name had come up several times, mostly in praise, and Baralai had been surprised when the man was assigned to the same team as him. No—that was too informal. Baralai had been the one assigned.

His respect for Nooj had been vague before, based only on rumors, but Baralai found his liking for the man growing as they became better acquainted. This was somewhat confusing for even Baralai, as Nooj could be infuriatingly blunt and even rude, as well as painfully broody and irritatingly morose. And there was that Deathseeker affair, which Baralai didn't find admirable in the least.

In the end it summed up to the words, "in spite of." In spire of all his weaknesses and bad traits, Nooj still managed to be rational, experienced, talented and clever. Even when sulking and plotting his death, he could lead, and lead well.

And when he was in a good mood, he was interesting to be around. Not fun—that was Gippal, or even Paine when she put her mind to it. Interesting. With the other two, Baralai had to extend some effort, but with Nooj, he could just sit quietly and watch.

He liked that.

* * *

_ii: when the moon rose_

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It wasn't really a matter of attraction. Or if it was, that was not the only reason. It was admiration that had started mutating into something else, something Baralai was less prepared to deal with—but not unprepared, either. He considered the controlling of his emotions one of his strong points, however, and was able to suppress all unneeded urges fairly simply, ignoring them if nothing else.

But one night Nooj asked, calmly, interestedly even, why he was always watching him. Nooj hadn't even sounded annoyed, or not very annoyed. Just mildly curious.

Baralai looked like two of his sisters, and his mother. Because of this, his sisters had grown up to be beautiful, and he merely an odd combination of boyish and pretty. People had made jokes about it before, Gippal especially apt at it, but Baralai had never considered his looks as having any real effect on what others thought of him as (a silly, naive thought, he realized later).

That was why Nooj was surprised when Baralai kissed him. Not because he would refuse it. Not because he didn't want (him) it. But because Baralai looked young, shy, (weak) pretty.

But he responded correctly, and more then.

They tried at quiet, using the thin, scratching blankets to muffle, not speaking, concentrating on only their bodies and sweating in the heat of (it all) the desert night.

It was not a particularly graceful thing. It was clumsy and fumbled and too fast at times it should have been slow, too slow when it might have been better fast. It was not always good. But sometimes. For seconds, moments, minutes. Hands and mouths and the dry sliding of skin. Fingers creeping down—around, in, over—

His mouth—

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_iii: when the stars fell_

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It continued for another two months, haphazardly. Gippal of course caught on quickly, and after a few cheerfully lewd jokes, dropped the subject almost completely. He asked Baralai once if he was in love with Nooj, the word almost underlined even in speech. Baralai had been surprised by the question. 

"I admire Nooj very much," he said finally. "Of course I don't love him."

And he didn't expect Nooj to 'love' him, either. It had never been meant to be like that, about that. It was about... contentment. Admiration. Lust.

Baralai had been taught from a fairly young age to do what he could to ease the life of his betters, and it never occurred to him that that affair could be classed as that. It was not all the time, or even very often. A handful of occasions, depending on privacy—and tiredness—travel and the day's schedule.

Nothing happened for the last week before the final exercise of the squad. They—and Gippal, and Paine—were too busy with preparations. With getting ready to say goodbye, the battle forthcoming.

Paine mentioned an Airship one night. Joking, Baralai and Gippal egged Nooj on. Join us, join us, let's go, let's do it. Baralai wasn't sure how serious he was being, how much he meant it when the word 'Captain' slipped from him.

Nooj agreed (were they still joking then, the four of them? Had they ever been?). Baralai was pleased.

He didn't let himself think about it.

* * *

_iv: when the night shone_

* * *

Nooj shot him first.

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	2. Midnight

(this story is rated R for violence, non explicit sexual content, and mature themes. you have been warned. this is a three-part story—**Twilight** takes place before the game, **Midnight **during the game, and **Dawnbreak** shortly after. please enjoy this story.)_  
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i am a means until the end_

_i move a mountain with my hand_

_and i'm floating high (but i'm always down)... _

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i. when the wind arrived_

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Baralai had quickly been able to discover that Gippal and Paine had also been shot, and that they had also survived. After that, they ceased to interest him, and Baralai trusted that they could find their own ways from that point on. One of his sisters urged him to join New Yevon shortly after its forming, and he did. 

At first it was no different from when he had been a vassal of Seymour--at least, not enough to really register. It was true that New Yevon was run by several people, at least in name, but there wasn't enough difference between Maester and Praetor for Baralai to pay attention to the details.

He took notes, he ran errands, he prayed and walked throughout the city. He started paying attention to what people thought of him. On the surface, Baralai was calm, serene, polite and collected.

He'd always been good at appearances.

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_ii. when the clouds gathered_

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It had felt like a second bullet, then a third. That thing from the Den, that insect machina with a skull's head--it was in Bevelle. It lurked under the floors, under Baralai's bed like a child's nightmare. It had been there all along. Vegna-Gun. He hadn't known what to do, and so had waited for a sign, an order--for his mind to clear. 

That was when New Yevon began to stir with the news of the Youth League. It was becoming more organized now, a tangible threat instead of a misty opposition, and this was largely because of their leaders. The Knight Lucil Baralai had heard of, and had once respected.

It was Nooj's name that made him pause.

There was no build up, no gathering. The anger exploded from Baralai, hot and dark, so that he began to shake where he stood and the passerby gave him strange looks. Hate. That was hate. That was--in the Den, the thing, the creature that had whispered to him with sticky cold fingers like branches or knives.

He wanted to kill Nooj. He wanted to--torture him. Make him suffer, make him beg for mercy, and kill him when his back was turned. Baralai clenched his fists so tightly that his fingernails broke through the skin, bringing a pathetically thin line of blood to his palms.

He imagined the scar beside his shoulder blade was burning like it had that day a year before. He imagined--he imagined--

There was discontent in New Yevon, the members speaking against the Praetor. He's too old, too bitter. He's going to ruin us all. Baralai thought of Nooj. He thought of Vegna-Gun. He thought of the Praetor.

He decided, and his mouth was dry and tasted of the kind of wool used to make military blankets.

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_iii: when the rain fell_

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Baralai was Praetor within six months. After all, he fit the part the party wanted. He was young, quiet, shy and pretty. Unobjectionable. Unthreatening. He knew now to take advantage of appearances. 

Gippal came to visit shortly after Baralai took office, not as a friend but as a fellow politician, leader of the Machina Faction. He'd grown a little taller in the two years, a little leaner, a little smarter. Their meeting was all business, until the end, when Gippal--antsy--asked for a word alone.

"I'm staying neutral, you know?" He'd always had a knack for sensing what was forthcoming. "I'm not getting involved with either side. You or Nooj."

"You oughtn't to side with him," Baralai replied darkly, the rage boiling slightly.

"...He apologized," Gippal said slowly. "Dude, it was the Den of freaking Woe. It got to all of us, remember? Nooj wasn't himself. He said sorry." He paused, and Baralai was quiet just a moment too long. "...I believe him," Gippal said finally.

"Foolish," Baralai replied, standing from his chair. When had Gippal grown taller than him? "Nooj isn't to be trusted. He shot us in the _back_, Gippal. He waited until our guards were down--when we were walking away--he's dangerous."

Gippal stared at him blankly. "You're the dangerous one," he said quietly. "You're a lot different now."

"Don't be ridiculous," Baralai snapped. That had been the end of their meeting.

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_iv: when the air chilled_

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Baralai began to visit Vegna-Gun regularly. It stopped reacting to him the second or third time, getting used to him like it was a sort of shy child. Baralai was still afraid of the Machina, yes, but visiting it proved soothing in some way. Other people would cause it to panic and attack, but the Machina liked him. The Machina trusted him. He wouldn't do much while in the room, just read a book or do some paperwork in the comforting silence. It relaxed him. 

One time when leaving, Baralai ran into Paine and her companions, an Al Bhed and the Lady Yuna. They wanted to hurt Vegna-Gun--of course, Baralai did too, of course, but they'd do it wrongly, he knew. He tried to persuade the Lady Yuna to turn around and leave, knowing Paine to be unreasonable, and ended up fighting them instead.

Outnumbered, off guard, and slightly out of practice, Baralai quickly lost to the High Summoner and her friends. Paine said she was going on ahead, not so much as glancing at Baralai to see if he was alright. The Al Bhed followed, obscenely cheerful in this place. Lady Yuna hesitated and looked at him, barely conscious and sitting against the wall for balance. "Do you need help?" she asked.

He listened to the distant panic of Vegna-Gun, felt through the walls the shaking of the Machina as it trembled and then escaped, and glared at the High Summoner with all the anger he could muster. She looked slightly hurt and left without a backwards glance.

They've ruined everything, those fools, Baralai thought darkly, and then he really did pass out.

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_v: when the thunder came_

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He contacted Nooj. Unlike with Gippal, Baralai wasn't entirely sure if the man's appearance had changed in the past two years--was his hair maybe a little different? His face a little thinner? He frowned the same, though, and spoke the same, and even through Baralai's thinly hidden anger that came as something of a relief. 

He agreed to go to Bevelle at once, not asking why, even, and something about that--a slight twist above the stomach, not one of disgust. Baralai shook off all such feelings angrily and considered instead the sweet irony that shooting Nooj would hold.

Baralai, considering that, then called Gippal too, more to act as a mediator then a representative of the Machina Faction. He gave them both directions. Nooj arrived first.

"I won't harm you," Baralai announced as they waited for Gippal to appear.

Nooj scoffed. "You actually managed to make that sound generous."

They were silent after that. Baralai was thankful that his sleeves were long enough to hide his hands, his gun. His fingers curled and uncurled. He counted the space between his breaths carefully, timed Nooj's, too.

He became critical. Really--there was nothing particularly special--not that Baralai had ever been attracted physically, but--maybe a little, but he had been young then, foolish. Admiration--really, what was there to admire about--Nooj shot him, in the back, after they had--he had betrayed--

It was all Baralai could do to keep from shaking visibly, from drawing his gun and--no, not gun. He'd rip Nooj apart, tear him at the seams, blood and the cables of muscle and machina alike spilling, threads of skin peeling away from the wound, ripping slowly, the blood rising and poring, the shocking white of bone before Baralai crushed it, let it splinter, dismantle the man like the machina, ripping and peeling it all apart, slowly, gently, sweetly. Giving the deathseeker what he desired.

"Gippal's late," Nooj said.

Baralai suppressed a gasp, but couldn't quite hide his shudder.

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_vi: when the stars vanished_

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"Don't despair, my friend. We shall destroy them together."

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	3. Dawnbreak

(this story is rated R for violence, non explicit sexual content, and mature themes. you have been warned. this is a three-part story—**Twilight** takes place before the game, **Midnight **during the game, and **Dawnbreak** shortly after. please enjoy this story.)

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_i'm so jaded,  
calculated,__  
wrong._

_please take me home,_  
_ too late, it's gone._  
_ i bet you're sad,_  
_ this is the best time we've ever had._

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_i: when the clouds cleared_

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It was a very large small room. It pressed in on Baralai from all sides, the dark softly draping itself over his skin, but even sitting as he was with his legs drawn up to his chest, even that much compressed by the dark, he felt as if it also expanded forever. Did all minds look like that, or just his? He rubbed his eyes constantly, trying to clear the smudges of darkness away, but never to any avail. 

His invader's name was Shuyin, and he had apologized offhandedly to Baralai at the start of things: Sorry, friend, but I need to borrow your body for now. Perhaps later we can share it.

How long had it been?

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_ii: when the night passed_

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Baralai spoke aloud to fight off the increasing claustrophobia. "You're the one who shot me," he said, to himself since Shuyin had stopped speaking to him a few days (weeks? hours?) ago. He was disgusted by the tremor of hope in his voice. "You are. Not Nooj." 

He still kept his eyes open, although it made no difference. "And you're using me now, for what? You're angry. You hate everything..." he was simply thinking aloud, trying to keep sane, but Baralai became aware that Shuyin had shifted slightly, turned his head in Baralai's direction. Baralai could suddenly _see_, was suddenly himself again, standing in a field in the Farplane, alone but for pyreflies.

He could move at will now, and turned--and turned again--but there was nothing (no one) else around. "You're using me to operate Vegna-Gun," Baralai said suddenly, not sure how he had realized but convinced he was correct. Shuyin hissed laughter in his ear, and sent Baralai back to his dark.

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_iii. when the moon sunk_

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"Open your eyes!" 

Baralai knew that voice, and hearing it in this place gave him a rush of relief and even hope. He stood from his crouch, knees aching from stiffness, and in that motion somehow gained control again, just for a moment. The High Summoner was standing before him, looking shocked, but Baralai didn't care about that--he turned and there, approaching--

Shyuin took over again so violently that Baralai seemed to be thrown backwards, but he was still able to watch as Shuyin jeered at Nooj and Gippal.

Despite it all, he felt happier then he had in years.

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_iv: when the stars dimmed_

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"This is wrong," he said loudly, starting to realize that Shyuin couldn't keep complete control if he fought back. Baralai was startled by his own words, and hoped Shuyin would be, too. "This is wrong. You shouldn't let yourself be so obsessed--" 

Hypocrite! Hypocrite! Shyuin taunts. You hate them as much as I! You think about them more!

"No, I don't!" Baralai was standing, turning in slow circles, searching the darkness for anything different. He thought he might be lying, speaking as he was, but the words felt true. "Or I did."

Still do, still do.

"It's still wrong. You can't just--destroy the world. Just because of one person. You can't let yourself..."

You speak with youth! You speak so sillily! Everyone in the world is like this. You're the only one that is good. I like you, Shuyin announced. I wish you'd stop this silly game, so we could be friends properly.

"No, I don't want to be friends! I don't like you at all. The world is different then you say..."

You and I are the only good ones. Our deaths will be the last, and we will die happily. I shall be with her again, and you can have your revenge and peace.

"You're not good, and neither am I!" Baralai snapped, desperate and shaking (The truth, the truth, he felt empty and dizzy with it spoken). "Go away."

Not until you're dead, Shuyin said silkily. It won't take long, don't worry. As we speak, Nooj is planning to kill you. To shoot you again. Maybe he'll have better aim this time...

"You were the shooter last time!"

I only shot the other two. He shot you himself!

It didn't matter that it was a lie, the words hurt all the same. Baralai lost his anger, feeling winded. His train of thought was gone too, and he searched desperately for what he was supposed to say in response. "Don't give in," he told himself, but Shuyin heard and renewed his efforts.

They'll shoot you and kill you, just to get to me. That's how much they like you... they're all there, you know! Gippal and Paine as well as Nooj! Even the High Summoner! All planning your death as we speak!

"GOOD!" Baralai yelled suddenly, burning hot and dizzy with the last of his strength, desperate and angry and scared and regretful, ashamed. "I wish them luck!"

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_v: when the birds began_

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"...Hey, wake up, man!" Pause. "Maybe if we dumped some water on him or something?" 

"Don't be stupid." Terse.

"That's not dumb, it's logical. You agree with me, you know it. Got any buckets?" Cheerful and strained.

"He's not conscious yet?" Approaching female, serious and tense.

"Uh, does anyone have any water to throw on him?" Female, young.

"See, Rikku agrees with me!"

"Let me cast a healing spell," Professional, caring.

"I think he's just asleep," slightly wry.

"Thus the water."

A hand on his forehead, small and warm. He thought vaguely of his older sister. He could hear them, but couldn't seem to move. Didn't want to move. The hand left, and the third woman spoke again. "I don't think he's seriously hurt."

"Maybe he's just trying to be annoying..." Still terse, but with slight humor.

"Yeah, like we haven't been annoyed enough already..." the first voice, laughing slightly. "Dude, wake up quick, before we get even more sick of you and leave you behind."

Baralai felt like laughing.

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_vi: when the skies lightened_

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After the speech in Luca, Baralai asked for a word with both Gippal and Nooj. He wasn't sure what he was planning to say, words failing him for once in his life, so instead he stares at them both and then bows low, lower then even a Maester warranted, and stared at the floor as he waited. 

"This feels weird," Gippal said finally.

"I apologize," Baralai replied quickly, straightening himself. "For everything. For letting myself get carried away. For Vegna-Gun, for my anger, for everything I had thought and imagined and..."

"Groveling is pathetic," Nooj said.

Baralai looked at him carefully, not angry for the first time in over two years. "Then what should I do?"

"Get over it," Nooj advised coolly, and that was that.

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_vii: when the sun rose_

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"So, uh, if you feel like killing everyone or something, raise your hand and Lady Yuna'll excuse you from the classroom, uh, meeting room," Gippal said, gesturing emphatically. "Just saying, you know?" 

"I won't kill anyone," Baralai promised dryly.

"Or maiming. That one too."

"Gippal..."

"Well, it is the first meeting between the Youth League and New Yevon," Gippal pointed out.

"I almost think you expect me to attempt at throttling Nooj from across the table."

Gippal grinned sheepishly, throwing up his hands in submission. "I'm just not as forgiving as he is," he said, "and wow, that sounded weird."

"...Mildly."

"But, yeah. You sure you're going to be okay?" Gippal asked, dropping the joking tone at last and turning to look Baralai in the eye. He looked worried, not for the safety of the Youth League members, but for Baralai himself. It looked... strange.

Not that Gippal should be concerned, but that he should be concerned about Baralai. Baralai smiled slightly and shook his head. He still hadn't forgiven himself, still wasn't sure if he ever could--if he'd ever stop feeling the regret and guilt, or if the thoughts of wanting to hurt other people (people he cared for). This meeting, businesslike as it was, was scaring Baralai half to death as it loomed over him.

He'd been avoiding Nooj these past months, sending representatives to meetings, passing messages through Paine and the other Gullwings, trying to not think about the past and instead concentrate only on the present, only on the good. That Nooj (that everyone) had come for him. That despite everything, they (he) had still cared enough to try. To wait for him to wake up.

It wasn't easy. It didn't always work. But...

"I'll be fine," he replied.

* * *

_viii: when morning arrived_

* * *

"...I don't think I hate you anymore." 

"Good."

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O W A R I

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_ending notes: songs used were in chapter one, Killing Of A Flash Boy, by Suede. In chapter two, Zerospace, by the Kidneythieves, and in chapter three, Please Take Me Home, by Blink-182. yes, _that_ group. _

_thanks to my holy triad (huh?) of reviewers, _Green4Eternity, Dysis Raine, _and_ ThePirateJilt. _thanks also to _Cupcake Monster _for general encouragement in the begining, and to _kj8673_ for, uh, being cool and leaving me LJ!comments. before this starts to sound too stuffy--forgive me, i am quite proud of this project, moreso for finishing it--i'll just leave. _

_thanks **very much **for reading this trippy little storything. if you actually made it far enough to be reading these words, you very few and awesome, you deserve a medal and **own**_ _my undying love.  
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